


O Fortuna (2006)

by JennyB



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Angst, Community: 60_minute_fics, Death, Future Fic, Gen, Paranormal, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-13
Updated: 2006-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-06 14:02:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1860690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennyB/pseuds/JennyB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joey's been in a mental institution for the last ten years. His latest therapy session shows an interesting breakthrough, but what will come of it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	O Fortuna (2006)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the LJ community 60_minute_fics.

Dr. Sanborn smiled kindly as he entered the small office he kept at the asylum. His 10:30 appointment was there waiting for him, the large, amber eyes watching him intently. Those eyes seemed to be the only part of him that held any spark of life any more. His skin had long ago lost the healthy, tanned glow and was now sallow and pale, and dark circles hung heavy under his eyelids. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, but from the reports Sanborn had seen, the nurses maintained that he slept for at least ten hours a day, sometimes up to eighteen. "So, how are we doing today, Joey?"

The blond blinked slowly, his eyes following the doctor as he sat down in the leather chair beside the couch, and he gave a blasé shrug. "Same as I was yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that…" He snorted softly. "Why do you always ask me that question? Do you really care?"

The doctor arched a brow. "Of course I care, Joey. I want to see you get well and reintegrate into society."

At that, Joey laughed, but the sound was mechanical, forced. "Reintegrate. You make me sound like some sort of machine that you can reprogram. Sorry, Doc…it's not that easy. I'm pretty fucked up, you know. If ten years in here hasn't fixed me, I really don't think another ten will do me much good, you know?"

"What makes you say that?"

A dark smirk spread across Joey's face. "Come on…give me some credit. I may not look it, but I really am pretty smart. Seto always told me so." The harsh edge faded from his expression at the mention of the other's name. "Things weren't so bad when he was around, you know. Maybe if he was still here, I'd be out there working as a fucking accountant or something instead of in here talking to you every morning, and then interacting with the other psychos for the rest of the day."

"I never said you weren't smart, Joey. I'm more curious why you think you're beyond rehabilitation?" Sanborn asked, his soft, violet eyes open and kind.

"No offence, Doc, but I hear the things you and the orderlies and the nurses say about me. I hear things like 'obsessive compulsive disorder' and 'disordered thinking' and 'schizoid personality disorder' bantered back and forth as if you're discussing the weather. Hell, from what I hear, you've even got a tape of me that you're studying." He narrowed his eyes slightly, despite his grin. "I could explain it to you; save you the trouble, you know."

"Do you think that would help?" the doctor asked, brushing his dark bangs from his eyes and pushing his rectangular-framed glasses up his nose.

"Me? Probably not," Joey said. "But, I'm sure it'd give you a shitload to think about."

"I don't really think that would be very productive," Sanborn said, despite his curiosity. "We're here to help you, not further my own research."

Again, Joey laughed that mirthless laugh. "Go get the tape…I'm sure it'll be more interesting than dancing around the issue that's really got me in here," he said with a grin. "Besides, I'm starting to get bored of talking about my feelings and shit. I'd rather talk about something else for a change."

"Alright, Joey…if that's what you'd like." Without another word, the doctor got up and crossed over to the locked filing cabinet he kept in the corner. Pulling a ring of keys from his pocket, he opened the top drawer and removed a video cassette, and then loaded it into the small television he kept in the office. He hit play, and then sat down on Joey's left side to watch the video.

"Left side, Doc," Joey murmured warningly. "You know my issues with trust and being on my left side…the one on the left is the one with the sinister intent…"

"Right. I forgot…my apologies." The doctor got up and returned to his chair. "Better?"

"Mm hmm." Joey's eyes were locked on the television, a sardonic grin on his face as he watched the amateur photography. "Whoever you hired to shoot this sucks," he commented, not bothering to look at the other man.

Sanborn didn't reply. He turned his attention to the video, which was currently showing Joey out for a walk along the hospital grounds. As he walked down the sidewalk, he would deliberately skip over ever seam in the sidewalk – sometimes, he'd just make sure not to step on it, sometimes he'd skip, occasionally, it would be a two-footed jump. He paused the tape. "So?" he asked.

The blond smiled. "Don't you know? Step on a crack, break your mother's back? Personally, I really don't care what happens to that crazy bitch – she can rot in hell for all I care. I don't do it for her, anyway. I've changed it. Instead of mother, I make it 'brother', as in my friends Tristan and Yugi. I have to protect them."

"Protect them?" Sanborn repeated. "From what?"

Slowly, the amber eyes turned to the other man. "Why, from _me_ of course. There was one day when we were younger, and they were pouring fresh cement – ah fuck, must be the hooligan in me, but I wanted to write my name in that shit so bad. So, I crossed under the tape and with the end of a pencil, I scratched my name in the concrete, my other hand resting on the seam as I leaned forward. Not five minutes after I'd finished, Yugi was stung by a bee and went into anaphylactic shock, and Tristan…well, let's just say I'm glad he was wearing his motorcycle helmet. The therapy took him six months, and he lost that scholarship he was gunning for. So now, my theory is, _'Don't step on a crack, you protect your brothers' backs…'_ Pretty simple, ne?"

The doctor's eyebrows shot up to his hairline at that explanation. "Surely, you don't believe that you were the one responsible for those events, Joey?"

The blond shrugged. "Dunno…but I tell you what, I'm sure as hell not going to take a chance. Those two have a good thing going on now, and I'm not going to be the one to fuck it up." He fell silent at that, nestling back into the right-hand corner of the couch and returning his attention to the television. "Keep it going."

The doctor pressed play again, and after a few minutes, the tape showed Joey going back into the asylum. He watched as the blond paused at the door, knocked three times, then made a deliberate show to open the door with his right hand, and step right-foot first across the threshold. "Let me guess…you don't like doing things with your left side first?"

"Yep," Joey replied. "You should know that by now. That's why I always used to walk on Seto's left-side…I knew about what it could do, so I could protect him. And, the one time I got careless, well, you know what happened to him."

Sanborn paused the tape. "Joey, honestly, you have to stop believing that everything unfortunate that's happened to you in your life is caused by you and some incarnation of bad luck."

The blond smiled. "Luck is all I've ever known, Doc. Back when I was younger, I played games, and won, based on luck. I'm sure deep down, there was a bit of skill to help me out, but more often than not, I was able to draw the right cards at the right time. I don’t know how many times I bet everything on the roll of the dice. She used to like me, and when I turned my back on her, she came back with a vengeance."

"Yes…a lot of people use that metaphor."

"Metaphor? Oh no…she's real, Doc. She can be a real beauty when she likes you, but then she turns into the meanest, nastiest bitch you'll ever see. I've got drawings of her, if you're interested…"

"Hn…maybe another day, Joey. I want to address this issue today, if you don't mind."

The blond arched a brow. "About luck?"

Sanborn nodded. "Yes…what happened that you, as you say, turned your back on her?"

A small, sad smile crossed his face. "Seto. When we finally got together, I decided I had everything I could ever want, so I decided I didn't need luck any more. I'd found something better. Love." He shuddered visibly. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, Doc. And she sure put the screws to me."

Sanborn made a few notes on his clipboard. This was certainly a curious development, and the first time Joey had ever really turned down that particular path. "So, you believe she's a real person?"

"It's not about believe, Doc. It's the truth. Every time something bad happens, I can see her there, laughing at me. I saw her in my room the day of Set's accident. And as soon as I heard that bitch cackle, I knew it was serious. But, she's not going to leave me alone – not until she's taken away everyone I've ever cared about. That's why I have to make sure I don't fuck up any more…because when I do, she's going to pounce." He chuckled. "Hn…maybe when everyone around me's dead, she'll leave me alone, and then I can get out of here…" He smirked darkly. "Or maybe, like a jealous lover, she's going to drag me down to rock bottom, then save me, ne?" He dropped his gaze to his hands. "Either way, it's going to be a long haul – I don't plan on losing anyone else."

Sanborn smiled kindly at Joey. "Thank you," he said after a moment.

The blond arched a brow. "For what?"

"For trusting me with this."

"Hn…do you believe me, or did I just confirm that I'm a lunatic?"

The doctor considered the question for a moment. "I believe that you believe she's real. I've never seen her, but then again, I've not seen everything. For now, we'll talk about her as though she's real, ok? But, that will have to wait until tomorrow. Our session is nearly over."

The blond nodded, and he smiled warmly, the first truly genuine smile Sanborn had ever received. "Sounds good, Doc. I'm glad you're my therapist. You at least give me the benefit of the doubt." He got to his feet, carefully keeping the doctor on his right side.

There was a knock at the door, and Sanborn answered it. It was one of the orderlies delivering some paperwork for him to go over. The doctor invited the other staff member in as he bade Joey good bye, and in the shuffle, he inadvertently ushered the blond out the door left-side first.

"Doc, no! I have to come back in! You sent me out lefties first!" He paled when the doctor paid him no mind and closed the door, his blood turning to ice when a couple of the other staff members grabbed him and dragged him away from the other's office. "Damn it, Doc! I just _told_ you what would happen, and then you're so fucking careless!?! Doc!!" Despite his protesting, the door didn't open, and the large men dragging him back to his room didn't relent. The blond's eyes widened when he caught sight of the ghostly apparition that floated by him, the long, silvery tendrils of its dress caressing his cheek almost lovingly. As he looked up, he saw the image of Luck, her dark, unseeing eyes sparkling with amusement, a twisted grin on her face. "Bitch!" he hissed. "I swear it, you'd better fucking leave him alone!"

As a precaution, Joey was sedated when he was brought back to his room, and when he woke up the next morning, he heard the excited buzzing rippling through the dining room from both staff and patients alike, but he didn't need to hear the actual story to know what had happened. He'd seen it all in his dreams. Dr. Sanborn's apparent, and highly unexpected, suicide hadn't been that at all. And, with wry amusement, he wondered just what the doctor thought about his story when he saw Luck's face as she pushed him off his third story balcony and onto the once-pristine courtyard below.


End file.
